93 Days of Summer
by Fairytale Warrior
Summary: "The fact that I care about you isn't a damn p-pun. You're my sis-sister and I trusted you!" Latest Arc: Mabel's jettisoned over a line and may have shattered their bond for good. [A collection of vignettes each inspired by one word in a list created by RisingSm0ke. Investigates the personalities and thoughts of various characters but mostly centered around Dipper and Mabel.]
1. Sluggish

_Hello all! If you know me from my other works then you're aware that I'm not on break currently and don't have any time to write. However, with help from the amazing Risingsm0ke I've managed to whip up a few things. I asked her to send me as many words as she wanted and, upon receiving them, I would write a short vignette centered around whatever that word inspires._

 _ **If you would like to add some word/s PM Risingsm0ke or leave a review. Should they be used you will be given credit in the provided vignette.** _

_This will all be written completely at my own pace and there will be no particular rhythm to my updates._

* * *

 _Sluggish_

Dipper dragged himself out of bed, feeling like someone had replaced his legs with Jell-O during the night, and readied himself for a new day. His eyes were a little delayed in opening so he performed his morning duties through hooded lids and with fumbling fingers. Drudging downstairs he greeted Mabel at the kitchen table with a sound somewhere between a mumble and a moose's bugle.

"Hey bro bro, do y-" he did not find her unfinished question strange- Mabel being Mabel and all- until she started laughing. The sound was loud and like a bolt of electricity, jump-started his brain into gear. Blinking wildly Dipper extended his arms and looked down at his torso to find he'd accidentally mistaken his sister's nightgown as a shirt and was wearing it under his vest.

"Aw man, seriously?" he groaned as Stan stumbled in with a camera.

The joke remained as a regular haunt on the poor pre-teen for the remainder of the summer.

* * *

 _Leave me an O if you liked and an X if you didn't._


	2. Superstition

"Oh, come on!" Dipper sighed, a hand falling to his forehead, "Mabel, you know it's just some dumb superstition!"

"Listen Dipper," his twin began, slathering butter over a piece of fresh toast, "You and I know better than anyone that _anything_ is possible in Gravity Falls."

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts Dipper! That movie was right and I am going to prove it!" Armed with her buttered slice of bread Mabel turned away from the counter and held it high.

"This is literally the dumbest thing I think you've ever done," Dipper sighed, defeated.

"Ssh, you!" his sister hissed and stood as tall as she could- as though she thought the taller she was the more accurate the results would be.

With an overly dramatic pause she held the bread high for a moment before letting it go. Dipper watched, shoulders hunched and expression deadpan, as it tumbled to the floor.

An audible _splat_ sounded as buttered grain met wood and he couldn't help but stare in dumbfounded horror.

It was just as Mabel leapt off her perch, an accusing finger poking her brother's cheek, that Soos decided to walk in with a bowl tucked under his arm.

"See!" she shouted victoriously, "I told you! When you drop a piece of bread and it lands butter-side down the devil is near!"

Dipper's hand met his face but Soos was willing to supply a response for him.

"I knew it!"

* * *

 _O= I like_

 _X= I don't like_


	3. Dream-catcher

_Dreamcatcher_

Mabel had never seen the bags under her brother's eyes so pronounced before, nor his face so pale or his reaction-timing so delayed. He flinched at every loud noise he heard and while at first it had been utterly hilarious to drive her brother into "deer-in-headlights-mode" so often now it just wasn't so funny anymore.

Dipper hardly ate, he never slept, and- perhaps scariest of all- seemed completely uninterested in the journal. In fact she hadn't seen it come out for days. Every time she tried asking him what was wrong he'd cleverly deflect her and before she knew it he'd gotten her hooked on something and disappeared.

He probably didn't think she could hear him at night. But, even a deep sleeper like Mabel couldn't avoid the restlessness of a child struggling within the throes of a nightmare. She heard his grunting, huffing, and even whimpering on really bad nights.

When Dipper became so sleep deprived, though, and started collapsing as regularly as a narcoleptic she set her foot down. It had taken several hours of work bent over weaving and tying knots and even longer deciphering the gibberish in her brother's book but at last, 8 and a half hours later, her project was complete.

"Oh no," she denied him later than night, "you're getting your butt to bed, mister."

"What- Mabel, I told you that I'm fine!" he protested, digging his heels in as she pushed him into the attic.

"And my lie detector is off the charts," she sassed. "See?" she held up a forearm horizontally and steadily brought it up vertically with all the appropriate sound effects, "Bing! Look at that reading, oh my gosh!"

Dipper, however, wasn't amused, and continued his efforts. He struggled all the way into the middle of the room. He struggled until he caught sight of her project hanging in front of the triangle shaped window.

Brow furrowed and squinting like an old man without his glasses he approached, reaching up as though to touch it before retracting his hand, "Is that a dreamcatcher?"

"Yup!" Mabel beamed. It had been made of woven fiber and fashioned into a close resemblance of a crooked tear-drop. Wooden beads and shells were strung through the center webs. Quail, cardinal, sparrow and various other kinds of feathers dangled from the bottom strings. They weren't fake either- the eagle feather had at least taken 4 hours to find alone.

"This is," her brother's voice held soft awe as he tentatively examined the dreamcatcher without touching, "Mabel, did you make this?"

She came to stand at his side, hands on her hips and modesty out the window, "Yep! And it only took me 8 hours! I had to borrow your book though."

Dipper didn't seem to hear. A genuine smile- the first she'd seen in days- placed ever so softly on his face as he looked over the fruits of her labor.

"Come on, Dipping-dots, let's go to bed."

* * *

 _O means ya like an X means nah_


	4. Familiar

_Familiar_

Dipper was bent over the kitchen table adding more scrawl to the journal, filling in untouched pages with the day's newest discoveries when he heard it.

" _Yo, Pine Tree, come see!"_ Bill's voice echoed from afar.

"Not now, Bill!" he called back, lower eye already twitching. This was literally the thirteenth time in as many hours the dream demon had tried to bother him.

 _"Awe, c'mon kid!"_

"No!"

" _Well, okay I guess,_ " The demon acquiesced suspiciously fast, _"but don't come running to me when you wake up with it in your bed tonight."_

 _…._

Dipper found the menace he'd been forced to bind with in Soo's downstairs breakroom. Bill was floating with his hands against his sides, though the true gesture was lost without hips. He was looking almost too proud as he surveyed what looked to Dipper like a relatively clean and boring room.

" _Oh, hey Pine Tree! Decided to-"_

"What did you do," Dipper asked completely deadpan.

As though offended Bill recoiled, " _yeesh, kid. Why do you always assume that I've done something?_ "

It was obvious in Dipper's expression that he had no need to reply.

In the silence between them a distinct chirping could be heard. The longer they spent without speaking the louder the sound could be heard until it was obvious the source came from more than one location. But neither Dipper nor Bill moved- though the glare in the former's eyes became more and more venomous over time.

 _"Okay, so, I might have released no less than 42 poison dart frogs into the shack,"_ Bill finally confessed without a lick of remorse.

" _WHAT!"_

* * *

O is like and X is hate


	5. Forest

_Forest_

Sometimes Soos thought the forest around Gravity Falls never ended. He'd stand on the water tower and look out over the endless pines and strain to see something beyond. His grandmother used to warn him as a kid not to go too deep into the woods else he be swallowed up. She told him that the deeper you ventured the smaller you became until eventually the canopy was too high up to distinguish and the deer reached the size of houses.

Back then he'd been scared to death and, to be honest, he was still scared. People went into those woods and never came out again. He was convinced that if someone were to record it Gravity Falls would have the highest rate of disappearances in the country.

Heck, it was no secret in Gravity Falls that the woods were unnaturally dangerous. Many people were too afraid to so much as _whisper_ about them- like doing so would bring bad luck.

Yet, day after day, there were two twelve-year-old kids who voluntarily scampered off into the wide unknowns, chasing the coattails of their next adventure. Soos couldn't stop himself from becoming star-struck by these children. They knew what was out there but instead of getting scared like the rest of them they actively pursued the dangerous mysteries of Gravity Falls.

He watched them run off in the morning and he watched them return in the evening- sometimes screaming in fear. But as soon as the shack's door slammed shut behind them they would always barrel over each other into horrendous fits of laughter.

One day, watching Mabel punch Dipper's shoulder while gasping for breath, Dipper clutching his stomach and near tears, Soos decided that maybe it was okay to be afraid. He wanted to come home and laugh like that too and if he had to face one of his greatest fears to do it then maybe it was worth it.

So the next day he called out after them, "Hey! Dipper, Mabel, hold on doods! I'm coming too!"

* * *

 _O is like and X is hate_


	6. Magic

_Magic_

"Mabel, no."

"Mabel, yes!"

"Mabel-"

"Aw, c'mon Dippin'dots what's the worst that could happen?"

"Mabel, the last time you said that Gravity Falls lost all its gravity. Which is actually kind of ironic when you think about it…"

"But it was fun, wasn't it?"

There was a long pause as Dipper gave his twin his most incredulous expression, "we had to tape pillows all over the shack because we kept hurtling into _walls_."

But Mabel waved him off with a dopey grin, "Water under the bridge, Dipper!"

"Mabel," he groaned, setting a hand over his eyes, "this was _yesterday_."

To that she finally stopped and turned to face him, "really?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

"Mabel, I just really don't this is a good idea. We don't know what might happen."

For half a moment there was deliberate silence, Mabel seeming to carefully observe the wand trapped in her fist.

Then, with the abruptness that was purely Mabel, she sprung back to life, "Nope too late this is happening it's a thing." With that she waved the wand and turned into a pig.

It took Dipper five days to turn her back to normal.

* * *

 _O means you liked and X means ya didn't._


	7. Dust

_Dust_

It was some gross hour of the morning when Dipper very slowly came back to lucidity. Lying on his back he felt the weight of overuse, exhaustion, and stress in every ache. His body felt heavy and he didn't have the energy to move so he kept his eyes closed, face turned into the pillow, and hand resting a few inches from his nose.

However, the weight on his lungs became steadily harder to ignore the longer he refused to move. Eventually the effort to pull in each breath summoned enough energy to prompt his eyes open and the lids slid up on their own.

Across the room Mabel's sleeping form was illuminated by glow of the moon; rolled onto her side with her mouth wide open and a pool of drool soaked into the pillow. She'd spent the last 9 hours with Candy and Grenda on a "girl's day out" doing who-knows-what with god-knows-who.

Dipper, left to his own devices, had decided to go monster hunting in the woods. Leading those gremlins back to the shack had been an honest mistake and one not soon to be forgotten with the damage they'd left behind. By Grunkle Stan's orders he'd spent the entire day kicking up dust and cleaning, mending, or replacing everything that had been damaged.

Laying there and wheezing he remembered, in a stupidly belated fashion, his allergy to dust. Of all the things to set his asthma off none wore the gold star of guarantee better than a good dust bunny.

Yet even knowing that he was in what the doctors would call the "yellow zone" and should be given emergency medication Dipper just couldn't work up the energy to do anything about it.

In fact, the child was so exhausted he managed to fall back into the bliss of sleep even with the threat of asphyxiation tightening his lungs.

"Dipper?"

The familiar voice was hardly strong enough to cut through the thickness of his sleep.

"Dipper?! H-hey, brobro this isn't funny stop playing around…."

But the only response he was capable of providing his sister was the labored rasps and wheezes dragged from his mouth.


	8. Mirror

**_Hey. Guess what? This isn't actually Fairytale Warrior. It's RisingSm0ke. I've stolen her skin and now wear it as my own. I guess I also now publish her fics for her because she's gotta be busy and productive like an actual adult unlike me. Either way you guys still get to read more magic right? Right. Message me if ya have word ideas and if I like them I'll pass em on! :)_**

 _Announcement 10/15/15-_

 _Wow, RisingSm0ke, you_ missed things _when you beta'd how_ dare _. If you're gunna steal my skin at least make it look good! But no seriously, thanks for doing this for me, you're the best._

 _I want everyone to know that more words have been added to the homepage. I'm considering the length of this "story" and would- as the title suggests- like to make 93 chapters. It won't be easy and will be a very slow process but I'd like to think I can make it work. That in mind; I need words! If you're too lazy to PM RisingSm0ke (rood) then just leave a few suggestions in a review or something and she and I will figure out which ones we like. All ideas are welcome but the suggestions must be one-word-prompts_. All featured prompts will be credited to whoever ultimately suggested them at the start or end of the vignette.

Thanks for reading and have a good one!

* * *

 _Mirror_

There'd always been something odd about the mirror at the end of the hall outside the storage room. Sure, on the surface it seemed normal enough- in fact it almost seemed _too plain_ to be worth any attention. The setting was shaped like an oval and framed in artificial silver that had been threaded with faint platinum scratches. The mirror itself was somewhat warped and reflected a slightly distorted image when Dipper looked into it.

At first he hadn't really been interested but as the summer wore on he began to realize a reoccurring pattern around it. It all started with an ache knotted at the back of his head- like something was pressing into the hollow at the center; right where his neck met his skull. But before long it would fade and he'd forget about it in favor of a new adventure. Yet, with each passing day it grew more and more aggressive until it was impossible to ignore.

By the end of July it hurt so bad he felt like someone was pushing a finger past his skull and 3 inches into his brain. He even dreaded using the bathroom so much he had started doing his easy business outside. But he still had to go in there to brush his teeth and take showers.

At the end of one particular evening he stepped out of the shower feeling dizzy and nauseous- wanting nothing out of the world more than his bed, a pain pill, and a hot compress. It was a tough battle to labor his body into his pajamas, hang up all the towels, and brush his teeth. When he was finished he stared at the closed door with dread but puffed up his chest. Stan's teasing and Mabel's sardonic remarks rang in his ears, his desire to prove them wrong greater than his pain.

He readied himself, reviewed the Mystery Shack's floor plan, and surged forwards. Throwing open the door he began sprinting down the hall with his eyes closed and a hand against the wall. But before he could reach the end he stumbled and opened his eyes compulsively. It just so happened that his head was turned towards the mirror at that very moment and in it he saw a figure. White skin, no face, long black hair, spindly limbs, tattered night gown- the figure was latched onto his back with a finger pressing against the back of his head.

His migraine suddenly spiked with killer severity and a high pitched shriek of terror and pain escaped him before he could contain it. Dipper's legs gave out and he slid across the hardwood floor with a loud _thunk_.

Sometime later he realized he must have blacked out because he was waking up in a warm bed with a pillow under his head and a hot compress- wrapped in some kind of fabric- draped over his eyes. His head kept up an incessant throbbing but visions of the creature were stained into his retinas, igniting a surge in adrenaline. A large hand was pushing him back down before he could even really sit up, though.

"Sshh," Grunkle Stan hissed, "You'll wake your sister." Pulling off the compress- grimacing when the desk light drove bolts through his still throbbing skull- he found Mabel curled up at his side, her forehead pressed against his shoulder and hands clutching his arm.

"What happened?" Dipper whispered, turning his eyes to the uncle at his bedside.

"That dumb mirror, that's what happened," Stan huffed and placed the compress against his nephew's forehead, gently pressing it down, "I knew I shouldn't have bought that thing." Dipper's brow crinkled with confusion. The older man looked away and scratched the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable, "So, I guess what I mean to say is," he hesitated then sighed and met Dipper's eyes, "You were right about it being cursed. Mabel and I should have listened to you."

Somewhat stunned the younger stared at his normally so unapologetic senior. He was still absorbing what he'd been told when Stan waved a hand in front of his face.

"Hey, you still in there, kiddo? Or has your brain actually fried?"

"How long was I out for?" Dipper asked, his voice hushed like he was afraid of the answer.

Stan shrugged, "all day. We had to find a way to get rid of that mirror before you started getting better."

A moment later a small smile perked up Dipper's lips, "Thanks, Grunkle Stan."

Stan returned the gesture and said, "You're welcome. Now stop talking and go back to sleep before you wake your sister."

* * *

 _Cheers!_


	9. Certainty

_Sorry, been busy!_

 _Certainty_

Mabel was a tough kid both physically and emotionally. She could pick herself up off the ground even after everything had turned South. She could hang one-handed from a grappling hook bearing both her weight and her brother's without breaking a sweat. She could hold her stance against a high-and-mighty prep who mocked and scorned her in front of crowds.

She seemed to generate her very own orbital of positive energy.

And yet, as the natural subatomic world was apt to, her positivity attracted negativity. It was like the world sought an equilibrium, a balance, something that would neutralize the radiance she emitted.

And Mabel had to admit that it was doing a pretty good job right now.

She sat in a curled ball atop her bed. Legs drawn against her chest, chin on her knees, and eyes locked with the bed across from hers. Dipper lay sound asleep with a book draped across his chest, blissfully unaware.

He knew nothing of the wakes of trauma still rippling through the thick-with-humidity summer night.

But Mabel sat there watching him breathe and gnawing on her bottom lip. She wondered sometimes if he knew how much she cared about him. She wondered if he saw her in his dreams as she saw him in hers on nights like this; coming to his aide just a little too short, her arms not quite long enough to reach him, her legs not quite fast enough to be at his side when he needed her.

She didn't hate Gideon for what he'd done to her.

She hated him for what he kept trying to do to Dipper. The lamb sheers had been bad enough but in the span of a little less than a month he'd already thrown Dipper and himself off _2 cliffs._

Terrifying images flashed before her minds-eye and she grimaced. The innocent surprise in Dipper's eyes when their fingers brushed together uselessly and he kept falling. The split second of confusion that folded his brow when he realized Mabel was getting farther away. The heart-wrenching jolt of eldritch horror that ripped her so aggressively from her nightmare that she bolted upright and immediately sought her brother out.

A jarring shudder played across her like a _ over a xylophone and she stiffened.

She seemed to spend a few moments ruminating.

But when Mabel lifted her head determination had ignited itself in her brown eyes and she unfolded herself. With quick, powerful strides she closed the distance between herself and Dipper. In moments she was on his bed. She tried crawling over him as gently as she could but her brother- the finicky insomniac- could be disrupted by the sound of a paperclip falling onto carpet. Inevitably, he stirred, taking a deep breath and shifting under the blankets.

By the time he squeezed his eyes open Mabel had curled herself up at his side.

"Mabel…?" he whispered, "What's wrong?"

Gravity Falls was a weird town with weird people.

"Mabel?"

And she could never really be sure of what would happen next.

"Hey, did something happen?"

But there was one thing she could be certain of.

"I'm cold, Waddles is sleeping downstairs, and you're a furnace," she said simply.

She would never let anything happen to her brother.

"I see…" her brother replied slowly. In the next moment he slipped away from her, but, before Mabel could protest she'd been wrapped in a cocoon and Dipper was pulling her blankets off her bed. He returned and with practiced ease; shook the blankets out, tossed them onto the bed, and slid in underneath them even before they'd fallen. Rolled up like a burrito and swimming in blankets Mabel felt Dipper curl up beside her.

"G'night Mabes."

Just as she knew he would never let anything happen to her.

"Night Dips."

* * *

 _O is love and X is no._


	10. Thorns

_Should I be studying right now?_

 _Yes._

 _Absolutely._

 _Definitely._

* * *

 _Thorns_

"Ow! Dipper!" Mabel's voice split through the bathroom with a hiss of pain.

"Mabel, it wouldn't hurt so much if you would just sit still," Dipper chastised, bent over her hand with a pair of tweezers in his. His sister was sat on the toilet grimacing and whining as her brother worked to pull out the multitude of thorns caught in her arm. A first aid box rested on the edge of the countertop, within easy reach.

"Honestly," he sighed. He wanted to say ' _you should've listened to me'_ but bit his lip. Mabel was frowning so hard she was almost pouting, brow furrowed and nose crinkled. Dipper's mind fell back to the torn up sweater they'd left behind; shredded and hanging from the blackberry bush by a few plaintive threads. Mabel's favorite sweater- the only one she'd ever received from their remaining grandmother- was out in the darkening woods where it would undoubtedly never be found again. He grimaced, gently plucking another thorn out of Mabel's arm.

He knew well that he was at fault for this.

If he'd been better about telling her to stay at home- If he hadn't been so eager to prove how tough he was- If he'd hadn't let Robbie rile him up like that- If he hadn't been so selfish this wouldn't have happened to Mabel. His expression tightened with determination.

"Dipper?" Mabel's voice held something like concern in it and he suddenly loosened his grip on her arm.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "just got a little lost in thought, that's all." It was clear Mabel knew there was more to it than that but she didn't have the energy to push him and let it drop.

Sleep came to her some hours later, with Waddles tight against her chest and tears in her eyes.

She would never know the fear that Grunkle Stan felt in the earliest hours of the following day; when Dipper Pines stumbled through the front door ripped up, bruised, and grinning like he'd won the lottery- an old ratty sweater clutched in his iron fist.

* * *

 _O = yes_

 _X = nah_


	11. Lullaby

_I would rather be where Dipper is right now than where I am in actuality. Also I have not consciously been making these last few chapters all sleep related and I'm sorry for the consistency- it's been purely subconscious._

* * *

 _Lullaby_

The blood had begun seeping through his bandages before the flow finally ceased. Now there was a red blotch along his left side where he'd been bitten by a wolf while fetching Mabel's favorite sweater from the woods. His torso was bruised from the fight he'd had with the troll that had chased both twins out of the forest earlier that same day and something wasn't quite right with his left leg- the one that had been clubbed. Dipper had an unhealthy spread of scratches and Grunkle Stan had been forced to remove a few thorns that had been stuck under his flesh.

A grimace pinched Dipper's brow and he lowered his head so it could sit craned back on the arm rest of his uncle's favorite chair. But the movement stretched the bruise on his chest and he reluctantly pulled it forward again with a shaky breath. The clock above the TV read _3:04 AM._

 _Sleep,_ he begged, _please just let me sleep._

Everything hurt; an unbearable ache here, a scalding burn there- he just wanted some peace.

That was why he'd perched himself in Grunkle Stan's armchair, watching a marathon of _Ghost Harassers_ and hoping the show would distract him from the pain.

His breath shuddered and Dipper stiffened suddenly, agony searing through his side and pinching his lungs, _it hurts! It hurts, please- please just let me_ _ **sleep!**_ He was too caught up in the event, unaware that he was being watched and consequently discovered with all his barriers and iron walls pulled down. Up until then he'd been doing a brilliant job of convincing Stan that he was ok and come morning it would be as though nothing had happened at all.

Dipper expected that if Stan hadn't been passing the living room on his way to bed at that exact moment he never would have known at all. Sleep for the tired old man would have to wait, though, as he found Dipper gasping, fists clenched around the blankets.

Old, time-weathered hands dipped underneath him, ushering an unmanly squeak from the startled boy. His Grunkle pretended not to notice this as he lifted him up, sat down, and then settled the small 12 year old beside him.

"Stop wasting time and just go to sleep," he grumbled and changed the channel. Pressed snugly against the cushions beside his great uncle, curled up under a blanket, Dipper quite suddenly felt very warm and safe.

Stan flipped to some old, black and white silent film. Violins, cellos, and a double bass strummed a slow, soothing tune that filled the cabin. Dipper had no idea what the story was about specifically but he was aware long enough to gather that it was a romance film from the 1920's.

 _That's weird,_ he thought with a long, sleepy blink, _I never struck Stan as the kind of guy to like romance…_ A long, contented sigh blew out his nose and Dipper seemed to sink into the old cushions, relaxing against his uncle's side. The old man smelled oddly of lead and traces of various chemicals, ever so faintly of mothballs and pumpkin pie. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant mixture but Dipper couldn't understand why. Perhaps it was the simple absence of his father's typical scent…

Faintly, so softly he would later assume he'd imagined it, the pre-teen thought he heard Stan hum a little tune. It wasn't bad- it was actually quite melodic. Fluttering eyes fell closed at last and a small smile of victory pressed itself into Stan's face when he was left to overlook the peace on the brave little man's face.

" _Sleep well, you dumb brat," he whispered and ruffled his hair._

* * *

 _Guh, now back to biology._

 _O= yas_

 _X= how dare_


	12. Blood

_This does **not** flow with the last chapter at **all** I am so sorry. ;A;_

* * *

 _Blood_

Dipper didn't need to have a medical degree to know there was way too much blood. It had soaked through Mabel's bright orange sweater, turning it into a rotten color. It pooled across the wooden floorboards beneath her; red and thick and syrupy. It was smeared over her face, sticky in her hair, and brighter than ever on his hands.

He fought off the oncoming eldritch horror and struggled to rein himself in. He'd been stressed over a list of things, key among them the recent argument he'd had with Mabel in regards to "fortnight-sleepovers". Insomnia tended to keep him up just fine on its own and most certainly didn't need any help from others. But Candy, Grenda, and a very persistent migraine had been staying at the shack for almost four straight days and he just couldn't take it anymore.

Of course bringing it up with Mabel got him nowhere and after an exchange of foul words he'd stormed out of the shack to cool his head with a walk.

He'd returned to find his sister sprawled on her side and surrounded by a pool of her own blood.

Now he knelt beside her trying to decide if he should call an ambulance or figure out where the blood was coming from first.

"It's okay," he gasped, "it's okay, it's okay. It's gunna be fine, Mabel." Overwhelmed by a wall of emotion he never thought the healthy blush on his sister's face odd. He didn't pay enough attention to the slightly-too-bright color of the blood around her. And he certainly wasn't in any position to think about how normal her breathing was.

That was probably why he yelped and flung himself back into the side of Grunkle Stan's armchair so bad when Mabel burst to life and huffed a mouthful of confetti- of all things- into his face. A shrill _fweet_ emitted from a party kazoo she popped into her mouth not a second later. The confetti fluttered over his skin, sticking in some places while he held his jostled head with his hands. The chair might be softer than a table but his head was more sensitive than usual and the bump was all it took to restart his headache from earlier.

"Surprise!" Mabel laughed and he could hear her friends' mirth from the hall. Candy held a camera in her hand, squeaking in delight with Grenda howling beside her.

"Wha-" he choked out, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"You've been _pranked!_ " his sister exclaimed in her best imitation of a TV announcer's voice. She then turned to her friends, "did we get that?"

Candy gave her the thumbs up. "We recorded every second. Now, we have blackmail," she chirped.

"WE CAN MAKE YOU DO WHATEVER WE WANT!" Grenda shouted. Dipper winced but was too stunned to say anything coherent as Mabel picked herself up off the floor.

"Wha-"

The heavy thud of approaching feet was a precursor to Grunkle Stan's arrival, who poked his head around the corner opposite from where Candy and Grenda had revealed themselves, "I heard 'blackmail' and mocking laughter and came to abuse my power as an adult." Then he saw the fake blood all over the place, "-woah! Who died?"

"I did!" Mabel beamed, using a towel to wipe herself down, "We were just playing a prank on Dipper."

Grunkle Stan mentioned something about making sure everything got cleaned up but his voice was just a muffled echo in the back of Dipper's mind.

 _Prank?_ He processed, _a joke? They think this is-_

"-funny?!" Absently Dipper realized he'd stood up, fists balled and quivering with rage at his sides and voice raised so loud it left a series of shocked wakes behind it. "This is _messed up!_ " he heaved, "What _sick monster_ would think _any part_ of this is even remotely _funny?!"_

"Woah, relax, brobro," Mabel tried, "it's just a-"

" _Just a_ _ **what?**_ _"_ he tried to snarl but it came as more of a hiccup. Dipper's chest shuddered but he was too exhausted and angry to care about the tears escaping his eyes, "a _joke?!"_ He stepped forward, enraged, eyes boring right through into Mabel's with an intensity she wasn't at all familiar with. "The fact that I _care_ about you isn't a _damn p-pun._ You're my sis-sister and I _trusted you!"_ Mabel flinched, something he couldn't interoperate- concern, fear, shame, guilt- glistening in her eyes. "If being your brother means having to hurt so much so often," he shook his head, still reeling within a stew of strong emotions, and took a step back, "then I don't wa-want to be related to you any-ymore."

Dipper was too deep to feel any stronger level of shame when he turned on his heel and strode from the living room.

-TBC-

* * *

 _O is like and X is dislike_


	13. Nightmare

_Nightmare_ (Aka: 'Blood part 2')

Mabel wasn't really sure how she'd gotten there- or even where she was. It was dark, dying lights flickering sporadically above her. They were just strong enough to guide her, however, and she could still see the floral pattern wallpaper, peeling and fading. The rotting wood creaked beneath her feet, the endless mansion groaning in the winds. Suspicions stains littered her surroundings as she jogged down yet another unending corridor.

 _Thud thud thud thud!_

The sound of her shoes on the floor reverberated around her, punctuated by a creak every five steps. Shadows flickered tauntingly at the corners of her vision. They twisted into terrible shapes, lunged but did not touch her, _threatened_ her.

Somehow Mabel found herself unconcerned with them.

Breathing heavily, clutching her sleeves, gnawing on her lip, she raced to the next door and with a mighty heave threw it open. Mabel's brown hair, streaming behind her, flapped against her face and almost completely obscured her vision at the abrupt halt.

Before her was yet _another_ room, larger than the last. There were a few chairs, an ottoman, an end table, and a couch littered with no real order. A wardrobe had been shoved up against the farthest wall, opposite the empty fireplace. Stand-alone lamps and at least one coat hanger stood like ghosts in the darkness. White sheets had been thrown over the furniture long ago, now covered in dust and eaten by the moths.

Mabel had been searching for hours. Her knees hurt, her feet felt pressed flat and stung a little, her shoulders ached, and her lungs burned- all she wanted was to sit down.

"Dipper?!"

But there was no way she could do that until she found her brother.

"Brobro, please!" her throat constricted and tears stung her eyes, " _Please,_ Dipper, I can't find you!"

" _Mabel?"_ his voice was a whisper, as small and distant as the moon only just peaking over the horizon. She had to strain to hear him over the humming and gurgling of pipes settled in the conjunction between wall and ceiling.

Stepping into the room and turning 360 degrees, she searched, "Dipper?!"

" _Yeah?"_ his hushed voice replied- seeming to grow farther away.

A desperate sob escaped her, pinching her throat painfully, "Where are you?"

" _I'm upstairs,"_ he said, _"hurry up."_

Then, in continuation of the ever maddening cycle, Mabel bolted from the room of forgotten furniture. She didn't know why but she _had_ to find him- and soon, very soon. Though she'd been running around the rotting house following his phantom whispers for upwards of an hour Mabel spent every second of it feeling like something terrible was going to happen.

With no regard for the dark pit beneath her she climbed the winding staircase up to the next floor and repeated her previous efforts; racing down the hall scouring the rooms until Dipper's whisper guided her up to the next level. Each time she heard his voice it was softer than before and he spoke less until finally she was searching all alone.

She gasped and shuddered, tears streaming down her face. She wanted to stop- she _had_ to find him!

She _had to!_

But after so long she just couldn't keep up anymore and sank to the floor. Relief swept through her legs but her lungs burned ever harder. The tears came from her with such force that Mabel was stuck between feeling nauseous and as though something ethereal inside of her was being yanked out.

"Don't leave," she whispered, voice thick with pain and fear, pressing her hands hard against her mouth as though to smother herself, "Don't leave me behind."

It was then that a blood-curdling scream wrenched through the closing darkness right next to her ear- the sound very clearly from Dipper's throat.

A scream of her own pierced the air, louder in her mind than it was in reality. Wildly, Mabel jerked awake and searched the new darkness around her.

She stopped searching almost as soon as she had begun, finding Dipper sleeping not even a foot in front of her. In fact, Mabel had curled up hard against his side in her own fitful slumber, clutching his bandaged hand with both of hers and pinning her wounded brother between herself and the backrest. Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford had moved the couch from the museum into the living room the day _it_ had happened, wanting Dipper to be somewhere they could closely monitor him. Being between the kitchen and the shop made the living room the best place. Mabel almost didn't care where he was so long as it was dark.

He didn't look so pale in the dark.

A pitiful whimper rolled out of Mabel's constricted throat and she tried to curl up even closer. Draping an arm across his chest, slipping the other underneath his shoulders, the child held her brother tightly and pressed her forehead against him.

" _Please don't leave me all on my own."_

-TBC-


	14. Froze

I'll do more thorough corrections tomorrow.

 _Froze_

Standing in the middle of the living room, Stanley and Mabel behind him, Ford found he couldn't move. His feet felt bolted to the floor like a statue in a museum- in fact he was so statuesque he might as well have been one. Ford had to fight to keep his breathing even and his back straight, resisting the need to sit down as he stared into the shaman's eyes. She looked no older than she had 30 years ago.

Her tyke dreads had been cut to shoulder-length, shells of differing age and beauty had been woven into her hair and clacked with every movement she made. The woman's dress was old and rather ragged, reminding him of fall. Cream sleeves contrasting with the ruddy almond that colored the fabric on her torso. Dirty gold cloth rolled out from under it, to her knees, before it was replaced with a yellow, floral printed fabric that fell until it pooled around her feet. Accompanied by the fishnet corset and belt made of weathered twine it became very clear the dark-skinned shaman had made her clothes from scratch.

Her dark green eyes cut into his own with unwavering strength and focus. She kept one hand lain over Dipper's sweaty forehead but ignored his struggling. Beneath the blankets the child wriggled feebly, his head tossing against her dark palm. He'd asked her to come, knowing Dipper needed her invaluable expertise more than he needed a bushel of confused doctors and plastic smiles. If he'd known this would happen he might never have stepped through that portal.

"Hypatia," he realized belatedly that he'd begun shaking his head, "there's n-"

"Do not attempt to disregard it, Standford," she spoke sternly and with a heavy accent- one distinctly from the Caribbean, "men like you cannot play fer fools."

"Ford what is going on here?" Stanley's voice was quiet, more because he didn't want to wake Dipper than any respect he might've had for the thick tension in the air. Hypatia's intense gaze flickered to his brother's, uninterested in Mabel's presence.

"Stanley." He wasn't sure if she was greeting him or just kindly acknowledging his twin's presence, "I have looked into da mind of dis little seedling to see what ails him." Hypatia turned back to Dipper, the shells in her hair rattling. Seeing him, the shaman's eyes softened with such warmth and empathy that Ford almost didn't recognize her. The way her thumb gently stroked his tossing, fevered brow was more maternal than anything he'd seen from her before. "I have looked into his future."

"Let me guess," His twin came to stand with him, Mabel still at his side and watching Hypatia as though she couldn't figure her out even despite her best attempts, "you didn't see anything there." There was an irresponsible smirk on Stanely's face that caused a wave of wrath to flood Ford's breaking heart. A part of him knew he was just trying to break the tension but…

"Stanley," his voice was tight with warning. One more word from his twin and….

Hypatia's piercing green eyes captured him in one swift movement, "that is right."

"Pffaha!" Stanley laughed loudly, turning to Mabel to say something further. Maybe if Ford had learned to control his rage he would've seen the tentative smile growing on the exhausted twin's face. Then again, maybe if he'd ever stopped to learn the risks- to consider the possible fleetingness of a child's life- Dipper wouldn't be where he was now.

He felt his fist crack across Stanley's jaw even before he registered that he'd moved, "you _idiot!_ " A startled cry emitted from Mabel's throat as she scrambled to safety and Lee staggered back.

"A- what the heck is your problem, Ford?!"

"My _problem_?!" he shouted, grabbing his brother's collar, "My problem is that my _nephew_ doesn't have a _future!_ " Staley recognized the anger in Ford's eyes and, reminiscent of almost three decades before, he opened his mouth to begin his retaliation. He wasn't given enough time to so much as utter a sound, though, because Ford had given him an aggressive shake, "you fool- don't you understand that this means Dipper is going to _die?!_ "

Stanley froze, horror finally dawning on his face. His lips moved around a single word- "what?" – but no voice carried it.

Ford's face felt oddly hot and his shoulders trembled, "He's dying, Lee, and there isn't a damn thing we can do to save him." There was a thick lump in his throat, painful and almost foreign. It had been so long since he'd cried.

"N-" though his twin's mouth was open the voice that broke the silence wasn't his, "lying," both turned towards Mabel, "you're lying!"

"Mabel-"

" _No!_ " The scream that cracked out of her throat speared his eardrums and echoed in his head like a ghost with a new favorite haunt. "No," she whispered, "no more. Please, no more of this."

"Mabel…"

Distraught, the overwhelmed child vigorously shook her head and pressed her trembling hands against over her ears, eyes wide, face pale, shoulders jerking with every frantic breath. "A prank- it must be a prank," she hiccupped and Stanley shook himself loose, racing forward and scooping the stressed and panicking child into his arms, "it's not funny, Grunkle Stan- please, _please, please_ stop it. It's not funny!" Every day of the past week she'd been by Dipper's side and though the brothers had tried to keep the true extent of his injuries from her Mabel seemed to know. As Dipper's condition worsened so too did his sister's until the concern she felt for her twin had grown to dominate her usually chipper life-style.

The poor girl only ate scraps and small nibblings when food was brought to her. She refused to go outside, denied Soos's offers to play card games, and had grown something almost like _scorn_ in regards to any sort of coloring, drawing, or other form of artistic creativity. And worse, Mabel's dreams seemed to torment her through the night, jarring her awake in a way that Stan seemed to understand far better than he.

It was apparent to everyone that if Dipper didn't make it through, Mabel would never _ever_ be the same little girl they'd known her to be.

They were going to lose them both…

Stan hushed his sobbing niece, letting Mabel curl up against his chest and weep. The poor child was an exhausted wreck. Ford's twin glared at him over her head and he took a startled step back. It felt as though he stood between an animal guarding its young- fearing the slightest movement could set off an attack. Rage, accusation, warning, and vicious instinct glimmered in the dark depths of a man who had far too much energy any 60-year-old had any right to possess.

For the very first time in his life, in just a moment, Ford felt genuinely afraid of his brother.

"All may not yet be lost," Hypatia's voice startled them all. Tall and intimidating, she beheld all the grace and beauty of a lionfish, returning to the living room as though she'd never left. Held in her hand was old wineskin stuffed with what he could only presume was some sort of poultice.

At last she gazed upon Mabel- and _only_ Mabel. Stan tightened his grip but his cargo seemed far less intimidated, peeking out with puffy eyes as Hypatia held out her thin hand.

" _You'd be willing to chase 'im to da ends of de earth an' fight for 'is return. Come, let us rewrite da future."_

-TBC-


End file.
